When Angels Gain Their Wings
by Tatsumaki-sama
Summary: Jim Kirk was a very special child. A little too special, some might say.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek or any of the characters.

**This is an alternate universe (AU) about Jim, that a few things had been changed. I purposely didn't mention Frank or Sam because I couldn't really fit them in this story. Events will be rewritten to fit this story, such as Jim's childhood. Feel free to criticize but no flames, please.**

**Hope you enjoy! And review!

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**When Angels Gain Their Wings**

The signs started showing up when Jim was four.

Winona had heard him talking to someone on their front porch. Curious, wondering if a neighbour or Pike had come by, she wiped her hands and went there herself.

To her surprise, there was no one but her son, sitting on the dusty wooden planks, chatting amiably to the thin air.

" - and I went after Vicky – she's my dog – up into the barn ladder. She wouldn't come down so I went after her. But then, the ladder fell down with me and Vicky still on it. When Grandpa and Grandma found out, they weren't too happy. They said that it was a good thing that there was a haystack underneath us or else we really would have gotten hurt."

Jim then paused, as if listening. Then, he eagerly bobbed his head. " That's exactly what Grandma had said. When Mommy came back from the grocery store, she wasn't happy to find me and Vicky covered in hay." Another pause. Jim suddenly laughed. " Really? Mommy got covered in hay too?"

It was then that Winona couldn't take the abnormality of this apparent one-sided conversation anymore. She cleared her throat, alerting Jim of her presence.

" Mommy!" He leapt to his feet, hugging her around her waist. " I made a new friend!" he excitedly said, pointing to the steps of the porch. " He was really nice and friendly and told me a lot of things."

She suspiciously swept her gaze over the porch. When she found nothing, she merely nodded her head once. Children Jim's age were bound to make up imaginary friends and the like. No reason for her to be too critical of her son. " I see. What kind of things did your friend tell you?"

" He told me lots of stuff. He told me about space and the stars. He told me about how he was captain of a ship once!" Jim breathlessly babbled.

" Did he have a name for his ship?" she asked good-humouredly, for her son's sake.

" The_ Kelvin_," Jim proudly said, without realizing how stiff his mother became. " He told me how he was captain of it for _twelve_ whole minutes and how he saved a whole ton of people – I think he said eight hundred."

Something fluttered uncomfortably in her stomach. It was impossible that Jim would know about the _Kelvin_. She never mentioned it to him before, not even in the pictures. And how on earth did Jim know about his father's accomplishments, when she thought he was too young to understand them?

" And how did you know about this?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

" Because my friend told me," Jim said matter-of-factly.

" Really, Jim. I'm being serious. Did Uncle Chris tell you? Or Mrs and Mr Teller down the street?"

" They didn't tell me. My friend told me, Mommy."

" Jim. You know how I feel about you lying to me."

" But I'm not lying! He told me. He told me all about it. Honest!"

" Who, Jim?"

Jim's eyes were round with confusion, wondering why Mommy had suddenly become so very odd and not like her usual self. " George," he said simply. " George Kirk. That's the new friend that I made. He's still standing right there." Jim pointed at the steps again, looking up at her in bewilderment. " Can't you see him, Mommy?"

Winona didn't know what to say then. She simply gathered up her son and ushered him into the house, ignoring his questions. She took one last look at the dirty steps.

No one was there.

O – o – O – o – O

After a while, Winona had hoped that maybe all the nonsense about Jim's imaginary friends would end.

Unfortunately, it didn't. According to him, Jim had met more than a few, other than George Kirk. He described to her in detail about a very nice old lady called Mrs Auburn. Mrs Auburn had told him he should give his mother some nice peony flowers from the valley below, whenever she's sad. After all, those were her favourite flowers.

Winona decided not to mention how Mrs Auburn was in fact a neighbour of hers since she was a child, always bringing her a handful of peony flowers every morning, and how she passed away a few years before Jim was born.

Another friend Jim had "met" was a younger man, a boy barely out of his teens. He told Jim that he was an old friend of his mother's and asked him to pass on one message to his mother." Winnie, I'm sorry I didn't make it to prom," Jim recited back to her.

She cried that night. She knew that man, after Jim gave her his name. Oliver Gallows. Her high school sweetheart. He had died a few weeks before their prom night, due to a drowning incident when he tried to save a little girl. It took years for the pain to disappear and for her to finally move on, with the help of George.

The next morning, Winona was surprised to find a vase of yellow peony flowers on the kitchen table. " Mrs Auburn told me to get them when she saw that you were sad," Jim merely said when she asked him. He chewed his waffles thoughtfully before saying, " George said that I should pick yellow ones. They are your favourite colour." He grinned, his mouth smeared with syrup and butter. " He said whenever he gave them to you, you would shine like the sun. Just like the flowers."

Smiling a little, she kissed Jim on the cheek. " George said that?"

Jim drank his milk first before answering. " Uh huh. He says you're shining right now."

Her breath hitched. " He's here?" She hoped that her voice hadn't trembled too much for Jim to notice.

He didn't notice, as he tugged her skirts with his sticky fingers enthusiastically. " Right there!" he chirped, pointing next to the sink.

" Can he hear us now?" Her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper.

Jim frowned. " George can hear us fine. Right, George?" He tilted his head, listening, before a smile burst jubilantly on his face. " He says that you look pretty."

Even a small comment like that was able to make her blush. Just like how when they first started dating. " Tell him I said thank you," Winona said softly, looking hard towards the sink, and willing herself to believe that George was there.

" He knows." The smile on Jim's face was glowing and for a split second, Winona could George smiling warmly, just as he did many times before, back at her. " He knows, Mommy."

O - o - O - o - O

Just before Jim started school, Winona took him aside and warned him about telling others about his ability. When he asked why, she reluctantly admitted to him that there isn't many others who have this ability. " They might get scared," she explained. " Because they don't understand."

Winona knew that Jim was a smart boy. He knew when to keep his mouth shut. True to his word, Jim didn't say a word about it to any of his new friends or his friendly teacher. If she didn't know better, Jim Kirk appeared to be a perfectly normal boy.

One day, she got a call from the school about Jim. She rushed there without a moment's hesitation, dreading the worst. It had nothing to do with Jim's ability to communicate with the dead, she found out with relief. But something just as bad.

During reading time, Jim's clear blue eyes became clouded and distant. And no matter how his friends or the teacher called and shook him, he didn't respond. When they tried to bring him to the nurse's office, he screamed back to consciousness. He then vomited on the floor, nearly passing out. The teacher quickly sent one of her students to get the nurse as she knelt down to do what she could to comfort Jim. He didn't even notice her, repeatedly whispering about "eating fire" and "yellow-eyed beasts".

Winona found Jim in the nurse's office, lying on a bed with a cool towel on his head, refusing to speak to the nurse or the psychiatrist that the teacher also requested. They immediately hounded her about this, asking about any fires that could have affected Jim's life or any horror movies that he might have watched. She calmly reported none, thoroughly as confused as them about Jim's newfound visions. In the end, they deduced it was probably some childhood nightmare or fear that was better left for his mother to deal with. When Winona did ask Jim about this, he shook his head, looking frightened and pale, clinging to her tightly.

" I wish I knew what it meant," he frustratedly admitted.

One week later, a classmate of Jim's died in a fire with his mother and father, caused when his mother accidentally left the stove on. Only his older sister survived, with hideous burns marring across her face and arms. Shivering, Winona now knew what it meant by "eating fire".

And not too long after that, a truck crashed into the school late at night. Fortunately, nobody was hurt, though three classrooms were destroyed completely and needed to be repaired. The second floor was too dangerous for the classrooms, shuddering from the cracks and damage from the foundation below. Witnesses reported that the truck almost looked like some sort of monster, with the way its yellow headlights blazed in the night.

Neither Winona or Jim said anything about the matter.

O - o - O - o - O

Chris Pike was the first one to find out about Jim's powers.

It was nearly a year since Jim's first visions started. They came often, though not with the same intensity or blinding pain as when they first started. Jim gradually got used to them, often interpreting them to his mother, who tried her best to understand them.

" Sometimes, they are images," Jim explained. " Like smoke and ripples. They come and quickly go. Those are the ones that don't make sense most of the time. The other ones make a lot more sense. They are a lot clearer. Like looking at a mirror or a watery reflection."

She simply accepted his explanations without any further questions.

After returning for a brief shore leave, Pike had called her up, wondering if he could stop by and stay over for dinner. Reluctantly, she agreed, only by the joyful look on Jim's face to be reunited with his beloved Uncle Chris. Dinner passed by rather uneventfully, when suddenly, Jim dropped his fork with a clatter, his eyes glassy and faraway.

" Jim? Are you all right, son?" he asked, worriedly shaking him on the shoulder.

By now, Winona had experienced with these visions and how to deal with others when they happened. " I think he's feeling unwell. He had been complaining of a headache earlier," she quickly said, lightly slapping Pike's hand away. She scooped Jim up and carried him up to his room before Pike could say another word.

" Uncle Chris is in danger," Jim said urgently, the moment he blinked and his eyes returned to normal. " This one was clear. I saw everything. Klingtons are going to ambush his ship, the _Artemis_, when they go to the planet Nerxuss after a call of distress. It's a trap, Mom! We've got to stop him! He's going to die!"

" Jim, keep your voice down!" she hushed, pressing a finger to his lips. " Not so loud. He could hear -"

" Hear what, Winona?"

They both froze. Spinning around, they realized that Pike was standing at the doorway, staring at them in an indescribable look. _He heard them_, was the thought that went through both their minds simultaneously. " What's this about me dying?" he demanded, his tone the one of a captain wanting answers.

But he didn't know that Winona had prepared for this day for a long time. Faster than a cat, she grabbed the bed lamb and threw it at him, catching Pike off guard. " Jim, now!" she yelled.

Jim jumped out of the window, followed by Winona. He landed on the haystack, tumbling and rolling. Winona winced when she realized she had sprained her ankle, but she ignored it. " The car!" she hissed, hobbling after her dawdling son. Jim fumbled out the keys from the visor of George's beloved Corvette, tossing it to his mother as soon as she reached the car. Winona sharply turned the car, almost out of the driveway, when Pike jumped directly onto the front of the car hood.

" Winona, wait. Please," he panted. " Talk to me."

She would have ran him over without hesitation, if it wasn't for Jim tugging insistently at her sleeve. " Mom," he said, looking at Pike with a fixed, inexpressible gaze. " Dad says that we can trust him."

If she was surprised, Pike was. His head swivelled dubiously from her and Jim. " What -? Winona, what is he talking about?"

And so, Winona told him. She told him Jim was special, more than special than she had first believed. She told him how Jim had the ability to talk with ghosts, including his own father, and how he had visions of the future that almost always come true. In ways unimaginable and overwhelming.

Pike sat across from her, a mug of coffee in his hands, trying to comprehend the revelation that had just come to him. " Give a man a minute," he muttered when Jim concernedly asked him if he was all right. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment of clarity. " So Jim was _born_ with this?" he affirmed.

" Yes." Winona re-adjusted the ice pack on her ankle gingerly. " I don't know how it happened or why it happened. Only that it did." She looked up at Pike, eyes burning in a resolute determination. " Now you know why I can't let anyone, especially Starfleet, know about Jim. You know what they will do to him if they found out. And I won't let you or anyone do that to my son."

With a sigh, Pike rubbed the back of his neck. " What a mess George left us," he grumbled. " Suppose he will haunt me for the rest of my life if I don't protect his son."

Even Winona smiled. Now this was the Captain Chris Pike that she knew.

O - o - O - o - O

After the successful prevention of the Klington ambush, (the media hounded after Pike to discover how he knew), Pike became an important aspect in the Kirks' lives. Jim was quite pleased to share his little secret with someone else other than his mother and even she agreed that it would be beneficial for Jim to have a father-like figure in his life. Not including ghostly ones.

Winona remained wary of Pike. She didn't know if she could trust him or if he was just playing along to get close to them before selling them short. No matter how Jim assured her that George trusted Pike and the unspoken how Jim trusted Pike too or how Pike helped them get out of some sticky situations earlier (like the incident at the mall, involving a couple of nosy parents and the speaking-in-tongues vision Jim had), she held her guard. She didn't tell anyone, not even Jim, about the fully charged phraser underneath her pillow.

The years went by peacefully, thankfully. At thirteen, Jim could easily charm any girl if he worked at it. And he made plenty of friends, with his wit and charisma. The teachers are stunned by his intelligence and how he could score perfect on all his tests, when he barely does his homework or studies. Winona proudly pinned the tests up on the fridge.

But the peace wasn't meant to last. On a particularly hot sticky afternoon, two boys collided with each other, after one boy had made a scathing comment about the other. Soon, the whole cafeteria erupted in chaos and a full-fledged food fight occurred.

And in the middle of it, Jim crashed down on the floor, semi-conscious, clutching his head.

Pike was the one to go pick up Jim, due to Winona being visiting her mother and it would take another twenty minutes before she even reached the school. It took some persuasion on Pike's part, but Winona finally consented and he went.

He found Jim sitting by the principal's office, with an ice pack pressed against his head, surrounded by worried peers. " I'm fine," he told them patiently. " I get headaches like these all the time. Because I have anemia. Not a lot of blood in my system."

It was the story that Winona, Pike and Jim had came up with, rather than making up a whole bunch of stories and leading others to suspicion. Pike explained things to the principal, who was distracted with the two boys, who continued glaring with nothing but utter loathing at each other. He absently nodded and let Jim leave early.

Pike waited until they were in the car and driving in silence for a few minutes before he asked, " Was it a vision?"

Jim shook his head, still looking a little pale. " No, it wasn't," he said. " It was something else. Something ..." He drifted off, looking shaken.

" What do you think it is?" Pike prompted.

" As soon as those two started fighting, I felt - hate. Hot, blinding anger. And desire to hurt. I wanted to throttle the other, get my hands around him and punch him to death for what he said. And I didn't know why." Jim looked imploringly at Pike to understand. " It wasn't _me_. Those feelings didn't belong to me. I don't even know who those two boys were! Or what they said. I just kept feeling their hate and their pain and the fear and confusion from everyone else in the room and - and - and the -"

" Calm down, Jim. Take a breath. Nice and slow, son," Pike gently said. And Jim sucked in a breath to soothe his frazzled thoughts. " So what you're telling me is that you felt what those boys felt?" he asked, trying to take the boy's mind off the disorientating whirlwind of feeling those emotions.

" Yes," Jim said, more much calmer. " Which doesn't make any sense. I'm only able to see ghosts and the future. Right?" he added, in a timid voice.

Pike rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the years pile up on him. He had his suspicion that Jim now had powers of empathy, the ability to feel what others are feeling, to detect unbidding emotions from people around him. He wondered if Jim was sensing his frustration right now and his confusion as to _why_ Jim had to go through this and the dread when he would have to deliver the news to Winona.

Pulling into the driveway, he could see said worried mother standing on the porch. " I wish I knew, Jim," he honestly said.

O - o - O - o - O

Jim grew up to be a confident, brash young man. He knew people who could be a lot more dangerous than the living, their secrets and information a great asset for him to twist things to his advantage. His visions certainly helped him out whenever he got caught in a pinch. And his empathy allowed him to smooth over conversations and misunderstandings.

His mother and occasionally Pike had tried to talk to him, to get him to settle down, but Jim was a force on his own, unmatched and uncontrollable. He was tired of being smothered and watched over like he was a child.

He remained in Iowa, having no desire to go anywhere in particular. There was no challenge, no point, no reason for him to do so. It would be boring, despite what his mother and Pike said. He enjoyed drinking, flirting, partying and living. He felt alive, exhilarated, free. This was_ his_ emotion, not his mother's, Pike's or any other nearby person standing within distance of him. This was him, who he was and what he will be.

On this particular day, he noticed how several cadets had came down for leave, coming especially to his favourite bar. Sipping his drink, he spied a female cadet making her way to get some drinks. A very pretty cadet, in fact. Grinning, Jim slid over to her, batting his eyelashes at her and tossing her a winning Kirk smile. There was amusement from her and a good healthy dose of annoyance, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

Another cadet appeared behind Jim, along with a few of his buddies. Jim leaned against the counter, eyeing the man. He was annoyed for sure, with some jealousy thrown in for the measure. But there wasn't enough jealousy to be her boyfriend, Jim sensed. Perhaps he had a crush on her and never acted on it. Oh well. It was his loss.

The punch happened faster than Jim could react. He crashed backwards into the counter, scrambling to avoid another punch. The man's annoyance was replaced by anger and demanding vengance, affecting Jim also, much to his own irritation. He fought back, throwing punches and kicks, even a bottle or two, whatever he could get his hands on. The room smelled of fear and panic and interest, as bystanders tried to flee the scene or watched in fascination. Their apathy and need for violence sickened him.

Finally, he was down on the table, feeling punch after punch walloping him on the face, feeling the blood pooling from his nose and mouth. Jim could barely see through the haze of his own blood and pain when he saw it.

It ended as a sharp, piercing whistle silenced the bar and while lying upside down on the table, Jim could see the lopsided stern face of Chris Pike, commanding the cadets to leave.

O - o - O - o - O

Winona was appalled to see the nasty bruises and blood crusting over Jim's face and shirt when Pike brought him home that night. " Can't your visions prevent you from ending up a mess?" she muttered, hurriedly grabbing bandages and some ointment to clean him up.

Jim grinned at her, his usually white teeth bloody and a little chipped. " You know as well as I do Mom, that they come whenever they want to," he cheerfully reminded her, allowing her to fuss over him.

She hmphed. " Well, they should." She finished dabbing the ointment into the last cut and ordered him to keep the ice pack firmly on his head. " Goodness knows how many times I had to patch you up after a fight." She went to wash to her hands, while Pike took over the scolding.

" What were you thinking? They outnumbered you four to one," Pike angrily said. Next to Pike's unnoticed side, his father was cordially nodding and agreeing with him, occasionally calling Jim stupid, idiotic, reckless and several other names. Jim rolled his eyes, gingerly moving the ice pack to another ugly bruise on his head. " Not to mention, they're cadets!" Pike continued, not realizing that George Kirk furiously said the exact same thing. " They've got training and everything else to beat you senseless."

" Not for long," Jim absently murmured.

" Huh?"

" I'm joining Starfleet," he announced. Suddenly and loudly. It made Winona flinch over the sink and Pike stare.

" Jim, you know you can't join Starfleet. If they find out about you, they will use you like a lab rat and worse - apologises, Chris."

Pike dipped his head in mild acceptance. " Your mother is right. As much as I hate to admit it, they probably will."

" Then, I'll be careful and I won't get caught," Jim stubbornly retorted. " I've survived before in places with people, you know," he pointed out.

It took her years to try to get Jim to go somewhere in his life and now when he made his decision, she opposed of it. " Why?" she asked finally. " Why Starfleet and not somewhere else?" _Why not somewhere safer?_ she silently pleaded.

" Because," Jim struggled to explain the irrationality and sudden inspiration for it. " I got this good feeling about going there. I - I don't know what it is, but I _have_ to go." His blue eyes stared beseechingly towards her. " Trust me on this, Mom," he added softly.

Winona sighed. She knew that look and the tone of his voice. It was the legendary resolute Kirk attitude when it came to something they're determined to get done, dead or alive. George had it too when he saved eight hundred lives, including his wife and son's, without a care to his own. Jim had made up his mind and whether she wanted or not, he was going.

She went to Jim then, inspecting the bruises and cuts on his face, watching him squirm under her examination. Pike was quiet by the counter. She knew that he would grudgingly accept Jim's decision, no matter what path it led to.

" Promise me you'll be careful?" she implored.

Jim looked at her with a sympathetic, understanding gaze. She knew that he was sensing her emotions right now, her concern and fear radiating in waves and pulses from her. " I will, Mom," he promised nevertheless.

" And you'll write at least once a week?"

" Yes, Mom." He rolled his eyes.

" And you'll wash all your clothes every day?"

" Mom! I will," he impatiently fidgeted under her touch. " Can I pack now? We're leaving at 0800 tomorrow!"

It was her turn to roll her eyes. Impatient as always. " Fine." She shooed him off to his room, where he practically ran there, containing a gleeful whoop. From below, she could hear him rummaging about in his room, grabbing things, dashing this way and that, muttering to himself.

" Just when you think you know a person," Pike commented dryly.

She chuckled. Her Jim was certainly full of surprises. But Winona supposed that was what made life interesting.

At 0700 the next morning, Jim stood at the front porch, a sack slung over his shoulder and wearing the jacket that had belonged to his father. Pike waited at the driveway, giving mother and son their last moments in peace.

" You never really told me why you're going," Winona murmured, vaguely fixing the collar of his jacket that she had just given him minutes earlier.

" I said that it was a good feeling -"

" It must be more than that," she interrupted. Her hazel eyes melted into his blue ones. " What did you see?"

He hesitated before answering. " I was on a ship. On the bridge. There were people there, people I didn't recognize. Their faces too blurry to tell. But I knew that they trusted me. That they would give their lives for me. And I had this feeling that I would do the same for them." He licked his lips, an obscure gleam burning in his eyes. " Mom, I need to know why."

So it was his curiosity that urged him. His undying love for adventure and a challenge and perhaps a little nudge of fate. It was something that the two most important men in her life shared. And by now, she had quietly accepted that there wasn't much she could do about it, but to patiently wait and see the outcome of it.

Pike honked from the driveway, signalling it was time. Jim bent down (how did he grow taller than her already?) and kissed her on the cheek. " I'll be back, Mom," he assured her. " I promise."

Winona gave a little laugh and for the umpteenth time, Jim could see the beautiful woman that his father fell in love with. " Another vision, Jim?" she teased.

He smiled. " No. Because I just know," Jim cheekily replied. He then drove away in a whirlwind of dust, waving frantically at her, mouthing a farewell, his voice caught away by the wind. She remained standing at the porch, until she could no longer see the tiny outline of the car.

At that moment, Winona Kirk could say that she was at peace. Her boy was going to be all right after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Star Trek or any of the characters.

**Thank you so much for all the reviews I've been getting. I'm really glad that this story turned out well. I did borrow a quote from _Shakespeare's All's Well That Ends Well_, from Act II, Scene 1. If you know the story behind the quote, then kudos to you! If you didn't, just send me a message and I'll explain it. I don't own it.  
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**Without further ado, here's the new chapter.  
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" I may throw up on you," the man growled out, looking half-wild and savage. Jim wasn't sure if he was seriously joking or jokingly serious.

He could smell the heavy alcohol and sweat on the doctor, along with a mixture of regret, anger and a fierce bitterness burning deep within him, vicious, biting and cold. He _looked _old enough to be Jim's older brother, maybe even older, and had none of the warmth and comfort that his father or Pike possessed. Jim briefly wondered about if he had any kids and exactly what kind of man he was, when a voice piped up.

" Don't mind Leonard. When he's hungover, he's as cranky as hell. But he's really not all that bad."

Surprised, Jim looked up to see another man, dressed nicely and cozy enough. He was smiling and Jim knew that if he added another twenty years to the man sitting next to him, he would look almost identical to the man standing before him. They even had the same eyes and the same curve of their noses.

" His wife divorced him," he patiently explained, just as the man himself rambled about it, his venomous spite hissing in Jim's ear. " He lost everything: his daughter, his house, his money. Everything. Not even alcohol can stitch him back together."

" You're telling me," Jim muttered, too quietly and quickly for anyone else to hear. Including his neighbour.

They arrived soon enough at the Starfleet Academy, with Leonard McCoy (as the older man introduced to Jim) throwing up on the floor and Jim having to drag him to the washroom, where they spent the rest of the trip there. A few days of exploring the campus and Jim felt right at home. He had just tossed the last of his clothes into the drawer, when McCoy's father appeared again.

" I need your help," he said without a beat.

Over the years, Jim learned a few things about ghosts and why they lingered on in this world. One: there was unfinished business to be dealt with and until that was settled, the ghosts aren't going anywhere. Two: their loved ones are the ones who aren't letting them go and once they did, the ghosts would leave in peace. Three: they are sent as guardian angels to whoever and they essentially remained in this plane as long as they wanted.

He guessed that McCoy's father was all three of them.

David McCoy worried for his son, who had a temper and had a tongue sharp enough to slice anyone's head off who tried to get close. He argued that Jim was the only one who got the closest to McCoy, without the latter realizing it. He wanted Jim to help him, help him rebuild his life and help him get rid of the grief and burden that weighed his son down.

Jim pointed out that Bones - as he had named absently while in the washroom - wasn't likely to accept him. Not to mention because of his condition, Jim couldn't afford to get too close to anyone without having them find out. He politely declined the matter and left it at that.

The next day, Jim slid next to McCoy during lunchtime, grinning like a Cheshire cat and more than friendly, much to McCoy's and the surrounding students' surprise.

The rest, as they say, was history.

O – o – O – o – O

There was something about Jim Kirk that made Uhura scowl and her skin pucker sourly.

No, it wasn't just his charm, the way people easily and effortlessly gravitated towards him, the way every girl's head would turn when he entered a room, the way every junior cadet admired and idolized him on the levels of an admiral. One smile and their hearts were won. Another word and they were forever his. Even Gailia, Uhura's roommate, was head over heels for him, sighing dreamily whenever he was within radius. It made Uhura roll her eyes in disgust.

She didn't see what Gailia and everyone else in the Academy saw in him. He was bold and rash, headstrong and impatient. He followed the rules and then broke them. He challenged to every teacher and professor he came across, only to respect them and listen to them. He argued and fought ruthlessly with his newly picked up friend and roommate McCoy and the next minute, they're laughing over a couple of drinks. It was mind-boggling and downright unsettling.

There were those times he seemed almost omnipotent, figuring out things that he shouldn't or couldn't have known about. He could smooth over any problems directed at him, instinctively knowing whether his opposition was growing annoyed or upset, much to their surprise, even if their facial expressions or body language was as flat as a rock. And he was very fond of chatting to whoever it was on his headset. Whenever someone asked, he would shrug and claim it was his mother or a friend. But some of those "conversations" that he had were a little too strange and peculiar for anyone to have.

Even with her skills of communication and non-verbal communication, she couldn't solve the mystery that was Jim Kirk. If she asked him, he would merely give her ten more questions.

Sometimes, during classes, she glared at the back of his head, trying to figure out what was going on inside of it. And more than once, as if reading her thoughts, he would turn towards her, eyes twinkling mockingly at her, with a curl on his lips.

Almost in defiance, she returned his gaze, jerking her head in challenge.

She would find out his secret if it was the last thing she did.

O – o – O – o – O

Pike should have known that it must have been bad karma or some sort of curse George probably put on him, when he saw Jim and his friend McCoy entering into his office. " He knows," Jim told him promptly, dropping almost lazily into the chair with a grin.

Definitely George Kirk's curse.

" You told him?"

" He had his suspicions," he cheerfully answered. " And I confirmed it."

Pike turned half an inch towards McCoy, who rolled his eyes at Jim. He heard about the doctor, who excelled particularly in his medical classes, though not an all well rounder like Jim. He had heard how Jim managed to convince McCoy to share a room with him, despite all the paperwork Pike had went through in order to give Jim a room by himself.

" I had some friends following him around and they deemed him trustworthy enough," Jim continued, ignoring his friend's indignant splutters of being followed without his knowledge. " Dad and McCoy's dad saw that he didn't speak a word of it to anyone. Not even a hint or anything."

Distantly sensing the grey hairs on his head, Pike wondered if this was how Winona felt when he himself was told about Jim's secret. " I assume you trust him enough to tell him directly," he pointed out.

The corners of Jim's mouth twitched. " If I can trust him enough to re-break all the bones in my fingers and put them back together after last week's fight and not tell any of the teachers about it afterwards, I think I can trust him with this."

Pike resisted groaning and slapping a palm to his face. Of course Jim would tell him, a respected authority figure in the Academy, about his little after-school endeavors.

" You know what you're getting into?" he suddenly shot at McCoy.

" Unfortunately. Why else would I be here?" he retorted, equally as sharp.

So the rumours about the doctor's knife-like tongue were true. Pike was rather interested and pleased that there was someone other than Winona Kirk to cut through the nonsense that Jim gave them. " It won't be some walk in the park. Especially with Jim."

" No need to tell me that. I found it out the hard way." He shot a glare at Jim, who smiled innocently at him.

A bell chimed somewhere outside and Pike stood up. " We'll discuss this later," he said, dismissing them with a brisk stare. " Off to your classes then."

Jim saluted him, with an infuriating smirk on his face before gathering up his books and leaving. McCoy was at the edge of the door, when Pike's hand clasped tightly around his arm. " If you hurt him in any way, I'll end you." He spoke out of the corner of his mouth, barely moving his lips, with but a whisper and a threat in the air.

With a steady, unflinching stare, McCoy nodded once and hurried to catch up with Jim.

O – o – O – o – O

Jim could feel the shock, with a good dose of irritation, coming from Pike, as well as everyone else on the bridge, when Pike demanded how he got aboard the _Enterprise_. Spock's emotions shifted only a slight hint towards surprise before returning back to neutrality and emotionlessness.

Pushing his irritation aside at the brutal apathy of the Vulcan, Jim urged Pike to stop the warp, that a Romulan trap was waiting for them and that the rest of the ships were as good as dead. McCoy tugged at his sleeve, babbling about some illness. Spock calmly commanded that he be taken away from the bridge. Pike demanded to know what was going on and how he knew about this. The rest of the crew said nothing, watching with their breaths held in.

He was pressed on all sides against the wildly pulsing emotions. McCoy's insistence and hidden alarm. Pike's urgent inquiry, with concern for him lingering in the background. Spock's pronounced annoyance, sharp and logical. The bridge's hesitating confusion and curiosity.

In the end, Jim won and Pike alerted the ship on defence. A trace of resentment pricked the back of his neck, aimed at him from Spock, but he ignored it. He was tense and anxiously waiting to arrive on the scene. Because if his visions were accurate (which they always are), they would be arriving in a junkyard of scrap and dark horrors rising from the abyss.

Suddenly, just as they arrived on the scene, it hit him, assaulting him harder than anything he had ever known. With a strangled gasp, Jim fell to his knees, only dimly aware of McCoy squatting next to him, calling him, trying to steady him. Pike could barely afford to offer him a glance as he barked orders to evade the crushing debris.

Wailing screams and choking fear engulfed him, smouldering him so hard and fast that it hurt to even breath. It was the final voices of those dying and dead, calling out for help, hoping for one last miracle, only for none to come. Their despair and horror were the only remnants of their lives, so strong and lingering that it managed to affect Jim at this point.

He was only snapped out of his daze, his arm held onto by a worried McCoy, when a face of a Romulan appeared on screen, coolly demanding that Pike come abroad his ship.

O – o – O – o – O

It couldn't any worse being sandwiched between one man, whose emotions of impudence and impatience made Jim's head whirl, and the other man, who held not enough emotion for Jim to assess. Concealed were dread and worry for Pike and for the rest of the crew, but Hikaru Sulu buried them deep in his mind that even Jim had a bit of a hard time noticing them.

Jim fidgeted in his seat, suddenly feeling how tight and uncomfortable the suit he was in. He privately agreed with Spock that Pike giving himself to the Romulans was a stupid gamble to provide the three of them enough time to destroy whatever that thing was that blocked communications from Starfleet.

He hated waiting and he hated nothing more to sit here and _wait_ as the closest (living) person he had to a father was off to his certain death. He should be charging and leaping into battle, with his blood boiling and adrenaline pumping in his veins, punching, kicking, shooting.

He had hoped for a vision, just anything, to confirm to him that Chris Pike was going to live by the end. But there was nothing and Jim felt that his hope was being cruelly crushed from him.

" Think we'll make out of this alive?" he impulsively asked his companion, who might or might not be as sane as him. Since Sulu did volunteer for this, after all.

Sulu inclined his head slightly. " I like to think that we are," he replied, calm and cool, which Jim admired about him. He was almost like a much nicer version of Spock. " Captain thinks we have a chance."

Jim snorted. " How high of a chance?"

" High enough for Pike to trust us to do this." Sulu's eyes twinkled. And in that brief moment, Jim could see the assurance and hope that he had placed in his captain and his crew and his ship.

Even as they plummeted down to their deaths, Sulu still had the unaffected composure, as if resigned to his doom, silently praying that at least he had stopped the drill and fulfilled Captain Pike's last command.

But Jim didn't. He was fighting and struggling, yelling into the communicator for someone to beam them up now. He knew it wasn't time for his death or Sulu's. There were no visions to confirm it or deny it. He just _knew_ it.

In the last second, where Jim could smell the burning ash, dirt and fire from the ground, he and Sulu slammed down on the transporter pad, still holding each other like two frightened kids. They remained lying there, to catch their breaths, to move their stiff, awkward bodies, to realize that they were still alive.

" You call these chances high?" Jim choked out, spitting out a mouthful of dust.

Sulu laughed.

O - o - O - o - O

For the second time, Jim collapsed, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of the devastating rush of emotion slamming into him, knocking him sideways and causing Sulu beside him to cry out in alarm. He laid on the ground, too stunned and shaken to move or say anything, even when McCoy rushed to his side and they took him to the medical bay. He rolled over once they reached there and retched, heaving and gulping and shaking worse than he could manage.

The planet Vulcan. Gone. Just like that. Its people and culture swallowed by the angry, surging mist, sucking everything up until nothing was left.

The rest of the crew was stupefied and their shock pounded doubly into Jim, not as painful as the fading pleads of the thousands of Vulcans trapped on their crumbling monstrosity that was once known as home. Two major losses in less than a day was more than enough to devastate the crew, who barely held it together. Which made it all the more painful for Jim, such powerful emotions pounding hard like drums against his skull. Grief washed over him then, something of a relief, as he flopped uselessly back on the bed, wiping the clammy sweat off his face.

He heard Spock's oddly affected voice addressing the crew. It was strange to feel such despair coming from the Vulcan. But the man had lost his home, his mother, his culture and that alone would be enough to destroy anyone.

Jim staggered to his feet, just as one of the nurses said no, you're unfit to be going anywhere.

But underneath her motherly concern was the heavy guilt and submerged under that was bitter question why Vulcan had to be destroyed, why the rest of the fleet were torn to pieces, why her boyfriend in said fleet had to die in a cold, merciless slaughter.

He knew what she wanted. He understood what she desperately demanded for, even if she and every other single officer on this ship didn't realize it.

He knew it because it was something that he wanted too.

O - o - O - o - O

He was rather taken back by the delight, recognition and pleasant surprise all mingling from the old Vulcan, who had just saved his life from the monster whose emotions simply cried out for _food, food, food, food_. He spoke slowly and excitedly all at once, eyes never leaving Jim, as if he was hungrily trying to capture every detail on his face.

Then came the mind meld and Jim's eyes were opened to images and memories that weren't his. The emotions (_stunned, confused, hope, patience_) that he briefly skimmed through earlier doubled and left him reeling backwards. He could feel the future Spock's emotions brushing against his mind, gentle and warm, careful not to push beyond his boundaries. But the connection of two minds was more than Jim could bear.

Never had he experienced something like this. He was bound closer to the old Vulcan much more than he would have liked, through mind, through spirit. He could also feel Spock shifting gently in his own memories, his thoughts, realizing that he had these unexplainable abilities, a power that lurked inside of him, burning and bright, pulsating, beating, thriving. He knew that Spock connected to every ghostly visitor he had ever met, saw every vision he had ever seen, felt every emotion he had ever felt.

And in turn, he was flooded with Spock's own memories, seeing what could have been the future, things that should have happened but didn't. It ached terribly in his chest that his father could have been alive, that he could have joined Starfleet under different circumstances, that he could have never had his cursed powers.

The truth about Nero and the _Narada_ and the why to Vulcan's destruction became apparent. The misunderstandings, the Red Matter, the unfortunate circumstances, Romulan planet gone, the need for revenge, imprisonment on Delta Vega, the horror, the anguish, the sorrow. It all made sense now.

With a sudden lurch, Jim was pulled out of the meld and stumbled back, gasping. His legs wobbled and he grabbed the nearest thing for stability. Spock gripped his arm for support, apologizing for his impatience and boldness to initiate the mind meld.

During the mind meld, he felt the crushing loneliness that plagued the Vulcan, who was separated from his friends by a barrier known as death that he could not hope to vanquish. For years, he had wandered, as a solitary figure, praised and idolized, but isolated. Even at the merest chance of meeting with his friends, even ones in an alternative world, this Spock would do everything to reach out to them, in hopes to_ feel_ as he once did in their presence, in their company, in their friendship.

And how could Jim deny him that?

O - o - O - o - O

Montgomery Scott had seen some pretty crazy things during his lifetime.

Seeing a person from the future could do that to a man. And this so-called Spock was testimony to that. Though the other man Jim identified himself as from the present and not the future. He sounded rather bored and amused by the whole situation. Which merely added to the confusion.

The second was being trapped inside a water main and being pulled along the current, drowning, thinking _oh god, this is it, I'm dying, inside the most beautiful girl I've ever laid eyes on_.

Then, before he knew it, he was falling, down thankfully on solid ground. Dripping and spluttering, he almost kissed it in reverence for saving his behind. Jim skidded towards him from the control panel, asking if he was all right.

" Good thing you're in engineering," he muttered, shaking wet hair from his hair.

Jim shot him a confused look. " I'm not in engineering," he frowned.

If Scotty could strangle him, he would have, if he wasn't so damn tired. " You mean to tell me that you went to the controls and _pressed every button there_?!"

" I knew what to press," Jim irritably defended himself.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. No one but those in engineering were able to discern from the right buttons from the wrong ones and even that took a few years to get it right. For goodness sake, even the safety latch was hard to find, especially if you didn't know where to look. Not even a genius such as Jim Kirk could figure them out so quickly and while the life of someone was in mortal danger. " How?" he demanded.

At that, Jim ducked his head slightly. Scotty knew a lie when it was coming and he guessed that the gears in Jim's head were clicking and whirring to come up with an answer real fast to cover up.

There was something about Jim that he couldn't quite put his finger on. How he seemed to know Scotty only minutes after meeting him. How he accepted the whole future thing from Spock and his transwrap theories in less than a heartbeat. How he knew exactly how to save him from the water main.

That there was something lurking beneath those bright, blue eyes, a secret, a story to be told. He was willing to bet his whole hidden stash of Scotch on it.

" Whatever it was, I don't want to know," he interrupted, just as Jim opened his mouth. " I've got enough of crazy in one day."

O - o - O - o - O

The punch from Spock came faster than Jim had anticipated. But he knew what to expect. The future Spock had already armed him with the knowledge of the future, coupled together with his own visions that warned him the several bruises that were to come.

Jim didn't even try to fight back. He allowed the punches to hit where they might strike, only raising his arms to protect from any serious injuries. Someone was shouting in the background and there were screams too, panicky and frightened. He ignored them and was thankfully that no one tried to step in or else they would be thoughtlessly pummelled too by Spock.

But the mindless rage within Spock did not burn out, as he had hoped. It continued to erupt, explode and flare in such vicious intent and destruction that Jim could not shield himself entirely from the danger. In less than a minute, he found himself sprawled across the controls, clawing at the tightening grip around his neck, choking all air off.

He did not escape. He did not struggle. He knew what was to be done. He met Spock's frenzied black orbs with his calm blue ones. Funny how only hours ago, their positions were switched.

Then, as if snapping out of daze, Spock released him, stepping back, blinking once in horror and self-disgust. It was so strong that it made Jim flinch and wondered in amazement how no one else on the bridge was able to sense it. It almost made him feel guilty for goading Spock into this.

Amanda Greyson kneeled beside him, uttering a flow of apologies for what her son had did to him, while Uhura and a few others shot the exact opposite towards him, lethal and venomous. He stood up, ignoring their glares and McCoy's agitated snarls that they no longer had a captain. He answered McCoy's declaration silently, with only a raised eyebrow at the doctor and the rest of the bridge, settling himself in the captain's chair.

It was his first time sitting here. He was not in some sort of examination, not in some sort of simulation of Starfleet to train him. Gone were the fun and games and the lightness of the Kobayashi Maru testing that occurred earlier. There was a heavy magnitude resting on his shoulders, one that the lives of his crew were now in his authority and that he alone now faced the decision whether to stand and fight or bow down and run.

There, he remembered something that his father once told him when they sat underneath the night stars one night.

_" When you sit in that chair, Jimmy, the world changes. It's in your hands now."_

O - o - O - o - O

" It appears that you have been keeping valuable information from me," Spock brusquely said.

Jim did his best to occupy himself with the suddenly very interesting blank screen, all the while feeling Spock's needle-like stare piercing the back of his head. Suspicion pinned on him, trying to get past his defences.

He wondered what information Spock was referring to: the fact that he knew about future Spock and this ship or the fact that he _knew_ things he shouldn't have but he did.

Even as he interrupted by asking Spock if he could fly this thing and hurried off to go rescue Pike, Jim knew that Spock was onto him and his excuses could only last for so long before the Vulcan figured it out.

O - o - O - o - O

Chehov could feel the cold sweat tainting his hair and he hurriedly blinked to get them out of his eyes.

Seventeen years old and he was about to die.

The ship shuddered and trembled, making his teeth rattle. Red lights flashed out warnings and the cool computer voice chimed out that pressure was increasing. The thundering cracks across the ship's walls and screen were monstrous, grim reminders of their coming doom.

Jim was collectedly telling Scotty to release the warp cores. Scotty frantically replied back that they didn't even know if they would work.

He glanced at the rest of the bridge, who stared back at Jim with hanging jaws and an emotion gleaming in their eyes that Chehov recognized but was afraid to believe in.

Sitting in the captain's chair, Jim looked almost like a king in a throne, confident and regal, as he calmly gave out his orders. And a few minutes later, they escaped from the blackhole and on their home with Jim grinning with pride like he knew it would happen.

Captain Jim Kirk was certainly something written out of legends and tales of old. He barely batted an eyelash as everyone swarmed over to him, clapping him on the back, shaking his hand, all to hold the magnitude of Jim, to force themselves to believe that this hero stepped out of the pages of a mythical story was real.

Still, there was something itched at the back of Chehov's mind, even as he reached out to shake Jim's hand gratefully. The image of the serene and motionless captain seemed too surreal and unbelievable and it remained in his mind, for no man could or should have remained as still and motionless as Jim did. Even unmovable Spock released a breath and steady Sulu eased his slightly trembling hand from the steering handles.

It made him wonder exactly how much of a human Jim Kirk really was.

O - o - O - o - O

" McCoy tells me that you saved my life," Pike stated abruptly over the game of chess he managed to drag Jim into, while he was bored and tired of being stuck in a bed. " In ways more than one."

Jim was far more concentrated on moving his bishop to capture Pike's knight. " That's what he told me too," he replied absent-mindedly.

" It happened again, didn't it?" He cornered Jim's lone rook to a side.

Clucking his tongue before sitting back to survey the game, Jim prodded a pawn forward. " Apparently."

" Let me guess. Telepathy?" Pike quipped. Jim laughed. " Mind reading?" he prompted, inciting another laugh. " Because if you're reading my mind right now and cheating ..."

" Afraid not," he grinned, moving his queen directly towards Pike's king. " I'm beating you fair and square."

Pike confronted Jim's queen with his own. " Then what?"

" _I have seen a medicine/That's able to breathe life into a stone/Quicken a rock, and make you dance canary/With spritely fire and motion; whose simple touch/Is powerful to araise King Pipin_," Jim quoted, smiling wryly, as he sent out his knight into battle.

Eyes wide, Pike stared at Jim, game forgotten. " You're saying that you can heal - ?"

Jim's knight stood before the king, smiting it to ruin and its downfall.

" Checkmate."

O - o - O - o - O

A few days after the _Enterprise_'s return back to Earth, Winona Kirk stirred her coffee absently, glancing up from the newspaper article she was reading. " Quite an adventure you had," she dryly commented.

Still sporting a few bandages but still impossibly glowing, Jim lightly nibbled on the lettuce of his sandwich. Even wearing sunglasses to conceal his identity (Starfleet and McCoy had advised it to avoid any media mongrels), Winona could see the sapphire incandenscence behind the shades. " It was," he murmured.

" Was it like what you thought it was?" Her tone was light, carefree.

" Yes. And no." Jim fiddled with his sandwich. " I'm not at that point. Not right now, at least. Maybe in a few years, give or take." He quirked an eyebrow in her direction. " I'm not a captain anyways," he chuckled.

" Yet," his mother added.

His eyes sparkled. George had that look too whenever he was amused. " Are you seeing the future now?" he teased.

" A mother always knows."

" Which is why I'm terrified to death."

Sensing the challenge, Winona jerked her head upright in a true Kirk fashion. " Really, James, cheating?" she suddenly scolded, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

" Really, Mother, a captain?" Jim shot right back, grinning.

They then burst into laughter, mother and son.


End file.
